Nightcall
by Maebmin
Summary: Snow and Bigby explore the uncomfortable terms of their friendship while navigating their personal demons. Snow x Bigby, and a little smutty. Takes place in the middle of the events of TWAU.
1. Chapter 1

_Note:_

This story takes some liberties with the time frame of events in TWAU. I wanted to set this at this specific point in the game, so I "inserted" this open time of events between Bigby finding out about Crane and the subsequent investigation that follows.

This references the comics a little but shouldn't spoil anything for _Fables_!

Please note that this story is labeled mature!

and that reviews are very appreciated :)

* * *

The night was nearly half over when Snow peered at the grandfather clock across from her desk. With pen in hand, she allowed herself a pause in her hurried motions for the first time today. The hollow room was perfectly still finally; no line in the hallway, no drunk Bufkin breezing past every few minutes bothering her, no Crane throwing shit on her desk without a word as he walked—

_Crane_.

With a swallow, she pushed her weight up against the back of her leather chair before running her hand through her hair. The empty physical gestures kept her distracted for another moment, until her mind landed in the same murky place that she had purposefully avoided all night.

She glanced at _his_ desk, the _Deputy Mayor's_ desk, with the gold nameplate that should have been hers long ago. Running this place with any sort of a conscience or efficiency was a lost cause on Crane. There was great satisfaction to be held in the fact that it would almost certainly be her title officially, soon. But the satisfaction twisted in her stomach into an angry knot. If she only could have achieved it through recognition alone, in the way she had been imagining for years.

She had long pictured the conversation King Cole would have to have with his close advisors while trying to figure out what to do with the useless Crane. _Snow's been here forever, she's the most dedicated Fabletown Employee. It's a perfect fit_. _Deputy Mayor, Snow White_. The mayor would pay her a special visit, unexpectedly one day; perhaps after a particularly swift display of community management on her part. He would shake her hand and congratulate her and it would be very reaffirming and happy. Even Bigby would be pleased for her.

But rather, with today's events under her belt, Snow now realized the official promotion would, most likely, come in a carefully prepared but casually sent over letter. It would be written concisely and professionally, but in between-the-lines, it would boil down to: _Your boss is at least partially involved in a prostitute-murdering spree of some sort, besides paying them to act out his favorite rape fantasies with you_. _You're the most qualified person to take his position. With a reduced salary_.

It was all bullshit, but it was a promotion, the one she had been seeking for centuries now. She was unfortunately used to the tendency to ignore the responsible public servant. Why exactly she had expected any sort of pomp and circumstance was unknown, but it was surely due to some sort of childish need to be recognized by the people she respected. Luckily, that respect was nearly nonexistent now, and as she stood up from her chair, she felt a little bit more powerful, despite her unusual position.

Earlier that evening, at Lily's funeral, she had finished her eulogy uninterrupted by the Sheriff. When he appeared, he had to stop himself from walking directly up to her. He waited with his arms crossed, looking exhausted but vaguely understanding of the delicate situation. Even then, Snow could tell when he had something to tell her. His increasingly pensive gaze had alarmed her more than anything else, and her kind words nearly fumbled as her mind raced to figure out what he needed to say.

That awkward mumbling afterwards while he explained his visit to The Open Arms Hotel was painfully...sweet. Bigby's reluctance to go into great detail about the subject was obvious, but it only agitated her. He could hardly look her in the eye and that only made the situation more embarrassing.

She didn't like feeling like he had to treat her so gently, like she couldn't possibly handle it. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that he had been trying hard to clean up his act, trying to be restrained and….friendly. What could have spurred that, what motives he possibly could have, were unknown to her. She appreciated that his service was becoming increasingly loyal, and that his temper seemed to be cooling off. But she had her suspicions about why.

He had reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her head hung low, for a moment, and she felt that familiar and increasing spark between their body language. As much as she wanted to pull away and give him a cold glare, to maintain this needed empty space between them, she allowed herself a small moment of appreciation for his presence and his kindness. They shared silence before she regained composure and turned to leave.

Shortly after, Dr. Swineheart was pulling shrapnel out of Bigby's shoulder. They called it a night after that, waiting for Bufkin to sort the broken mirror. She could hear him still, clinking shards together in the corner of the room, cursing every quarter hour or so. Hopefully, she would have just enough time for a few hours sleep before getting back to work.

As Snow gathered her coat and paperwork, the sight of Bigby's Huff N Puffs gave her pause. He had left them behind and she couldn't help herself from smirking at the thought of him reaching into his jacket pocket, probably right around now, and finding that his only pack was gone.

The carton's lacquer shined in the dim lamplight as she picked up the package. Maybe half empty. She gazed at the clock for a final moment, before Snow put the carton in her front pocket. It was a smelly habit. But a handsome one, at that.

* * *

It was two minutes later when she stood in front of the Sheriff's door, letting out a nervous sigh. Despite her normally meticulous introspection, Snow had not thought this out at all and was desperately trying not to. _You're only delivering his cigarettes, because you are a kind person_. She could feel something hiding within her, some sort of perplexity that she was avoiding. With her shoulders sagging, her exhaustion was becoming more evident, and she questioned again why she was here.

Despite her misgivings, she reached out and knocked on the heavy wood door, reasoning that there was no turning back now. Her panicking internal monologue stopped itself when she heard footsteps. She braced herself for the impact of awkward eye contact that was sure to happen when he opened the door.

"Snow?"

Their eyes met. Bigby stared at her, rubbing one eye with his wrist, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was still in his work pants, but his button down shirt was undone now, exposing his myriad of bandages and bruises.

"Bigby! Were you sleeping?"

He shrugged before clearing his throat, "Only trying. Got a lot on my mind, I guess." His eyes crinkled as he gave a small smile, before returning to confusion, "Is something up? Any new info?"

"No, no. I was heading home finally, when I noticed these," Snow procured the carton from her coat pocket, while watching Bigby's eyes rise in surprise. "I couldn't bear to think of you living without them."

She reached out, holding her hand in the air for him. His widened eyes were amused and disbelieving, and he seemed to think for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it from her.

"You didn't have to come all the way down here to do that. I've got a ton of these inside, just _because_ I can't live without 'em."

Snow's cheeks flushed before she took a small step backwards, preparing herself to leave before saying offhandedly, "I'm glad you're covered. Try not to leave them on my desk again."

"Wait, thank you though, really. Why don't you, uh, come inside?"

Her eyebrows rose as she stopped her turn down the hallway. Before she could respectfully decline, Bigby purposefully stood back, opening the door widely for her.

"I need your help with something, really. Do you have just a second?"

Snow scoffed, "My _help_ with something? I've certainly heard that before."

It was Bigby's turn to blush sheepishly before brushing his hair back, "Ahh, I can just ask Dr. Swineheart later. You need some down time." He grabbed the door with his hand and stepped back into the threshold.

Snow crossed her arms in her contemplative fashion before resigning herself to the situation and sighing, "No…I'm fine. Who needs sleep, anyway?"

Bigby's meek grin hinted at his nervous satisfaction. He stepped back and held the door open for her as she walked inside.

Walking straight in, Snow tried to seem assertive and not as diminutive as she felt. She heard the door close behind her as she made her way forward. His apartment, _the_ smallest in The Woodlands, wasn't…too shabby. It was certainly fitting for a person who worked nearly every waking hour. She appreciated some of the small improvements he had obviously tried to make in his down time; a crooked landscape painting, a second hand rug. Most out of place was a small plant, clinging to life by his kitchen sink.

She instinctively walked to it, turning the faucet on lightly before picking up the small pot and bringing it under the stream of water for a moment. Bigby's footsteps could be heard behind her.

"Did you come here to water my plant?"

She set the pot down gingerly. She let the water run, allowing it to drown the sound of silence out before finally turning it off.

"You should take care of it. It's depending on you."

Coming closer to her, he muttered, "I didn't realize my house plants were under your jurisdiction, Snow."

"I'm sorry. Maybe you don't need my help, after all?" Snow turned to face him and smiled as he sat down at his dingy table. Newspapers were tucked under one leg to keep it balanced and two takeout containers she had noticed a week ago were sitting in the same spot she remembered.

"Don't make it so hard to ask for your help. I started itching at these bandages and I think I tore something open."

Snow was in the middle of peeking into one of the old takeout boxes before she shook her head in disgust, "Ugh, Bigby…"

"Oh, don't mind those...just avoid them. Come on, I didn't know I would have my boss over tonight."

"Boss, huh? Is that what you're going to call me now?" Snow faced him and crossed her arms while leaning on her hip. Bigby looked up at her, perplexed but still entertained with a crooked smile.

"Isn't that what I _should_ call you? Crane's out. You've always been the one with the orders, anyway."

Snow ignored that and motioned for him to remove his shirt before telling him, "Turn around. Do you have extra bandages?"

Bigby reached across his table to give the additional dressings to Snow, causing him to cringe from pain momentarily. She felt bad for him, but he never seemed to focus on it for too long. His ability to continue on as though he felt fine made him the dependable Sherriff that he was.

Turning in his chair, his back faced her now as she sat down behind him. He was right; the bandages were pulled up against his fresh stiches, and droplets of fresh blood had stained the edges of the dressing.

"What are you doing scratching at new stitches like this?"

"I heal fast, stuff like this itches like crazy on the first night, usually."

"You're more dog than man, Bigby."

"I prefer _wolf_, not dog. But thanks for the judgment."

She smirked, pulling the old bandages around his shoulder and off his body. "You _have_ to be careful, there's no point in telling Dr. Swineheart that you're going to lay off if you're going to go home and do this."

"I'm serious, Snow, I'm _this_ close to never asking for your help again."

Her busy hands stopped for a moment, and she stared at the back of the greasy hair that hid his expression from her. Part of her felt guilty for the antagonism between them, but another part knew that they needed it, the bullshit. When it came down to it, disturbingly, the pair had a lot in common. They worked selflessly for Fabletown, and were the only ones who understood the other's real position. They were both lonely, but fiercely independent. Independent enough that they always went home to separate apartments, never indulging in anything beyond the rare cup of coffee down the block; all they needed from the other one was help in cleaning up the variety of messes that occurred in their lives. And that was all she needed, for now.

"Your hands are freezing, Snow."

"I get that a lot," She inspected the stitches for a moment before she reached for the new dressings.

"Well, I'm serious, unlike most of the assholes who probably tell you that."

Her eyes narrowed as she continued, "Why do you say that?"

"Seems like the perfect line," His voice rose an octave, in a royalty-mocking accent, "_Snow White_, _your hands are cold! May I warm them up for you?_ How often does that happen?"

She cringed, not just at Bigby's attempt to disarm her, but at how accurate he was. She swallowed before answering, "It used to happen all the time. Not anymore, though."

"Why's that?"

"I guess very few people have been close enough to me to be able to say that in the past century. It used to happen, though. When I was still..." Her voice trailed off.

"Socializing?" Bigby offered.

"I guess so."

He grunted in affirmation, relaxing in his chair as she tucked the final layer of bandage neatly down.

"All done. Try not to mess it up this time, Wolf."

He turned in his chair, stretching his arm slightly to test the give of the bandage. Satisfied, he pulled his shirt over himself again, while still avoiding buttoning it.

"Can I ask you something, Snow?"

_Damn it_. "Sure, Bigby."

"You weren't…keeping anything from me about Crane, were you?"

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of his name, and she pulled back defensively from the table, "What do you _mean_ by that?"

"I _mean_, did he ever mess with you? Was there something going on I didn't know about?"

"Bigby, I don't—"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I always hated the fuck, Snow, and if I had known—"

"You would've what, Bigby? You would've killed him?" Her voice rose and nearly broke as her throat tightened, "It doesn't matter, okay? It doesn't matter. There is something so much bigger going on here, something so much bigger than my problems."

"You're so consumed by everything bad that happens in Fabletown that you can't recognize when something bad happens to _you_, and I can see it building up, Snow, and I don't—"

"I have spent _centuries_ being stepped on and objectified, Bigby. This isn't the first time. And it probably won't be the last. But do you know the last time those women were stepped on? When someone cut their heads off and tossed their bodies in the river."

Bigby leaned forward on the table with his elbows, sighing and looking more exhausted suddenly. He spoke carefully, "I'm just sorry, that I've been working closely with you for so long, and I wasn't able to put it together until I walked into a crime scene. You were probably right about Crane being harmless. But if he isn't… I don't know. Something could have happened. He's lucky I didn't stumble upon those photographs the night your head showed up on our doorstep."

Snow stood up, pushing her chair in with a single hand, "Please _stop_ talking about it, Bigby."

His mouth closed, and Bigby looked defeated. Every few years, it seemed, he would reach out to her in this way. Maybe he thought he was doing it for her benefit. She probably seemed pretty pathetic. But so did he, and his loneliness was compounding yearly. It was obvious to her.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm not that much help. I just hope you know that I'm here, on your team."

"I _know_ that, Bigby. And I appreciate it… I really do."

Snow's breath caught in her throat. Bigby was still sitting at his chair, but was now facing out and toward her, waiting for her to continue. Her knees were close to his, and even more now, she could feel a jolt of electricity go up her thighs. _What am I doing here?_

She swallowed before meekly adding, "Thank you for today. You did some of your best work out there."

Before she could stop herself, she reached out to his right cheek. She stopped before she touched him, making eye contact to make sure he wasn't about to turn away. Her palm landed on the right side of his jawbone. His skin was hot, rough, with stubble that prickled under her thumb while she grazed it gently across his cheek.

He stared at her for a long time before he tilted his head to say, "What do you think, Boss?"

Her other hand found the side of his neck. She relaxed her cool fingers around it, feeling its pulse under her wrist. "I need…to be in control of something. For once in my life."

"Well, if I can do one thing, it's follow your orders."

There was silence between them before she gave a small laugh, "Please. Don't ruin it with lying."

She took a step closer to him, parting his knees with a small push to the side with hers. They parted willingly, and Snow inhaled deeply in satisfaction. His eyes were wide, befuddled but desirous. Bending over, she was now face to face with him. She came closer, pausing only to glance at his expecting face before kissing him hard and straightaway. Their breath multiplied while he thrust his weight against her. She kept his pace though, placing her hands on his freshly-bandaged shoulders and pushing them forward before she moved to straddle his lap between her legs. She sat down on top of his thighs and parted her legs to accommodate his waist.

She pulled herself closer to him, holding onto his shoulders for support as her weight leaned her back. She commanded him with the same assertive tone she would use at work, "Bigby, hold on to me."

He took her orders and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up and squeezing her tightly against him. Snow could feel every inch of him, and she came close to giving everything to him and letting him simply take her, with no more pretense. His flat face buried into her breasts eagerly, too eagerly, nearly, and she regained her control over herself. She pushed him, hands on his chest, back up against the chair and away from her.

Looking guilty, he waited for her to continue. She balanced herself on top of his body before she lifted her head up, exposing her tender neck. With a single finger, she pointed to it before coaxing him to come closer. Obediently, Bigby pitched forward before taking in her scent, the area she so carefully sprayed with perfume every day. His breath was slow and hot and it nearly melted Snow, leaving her trembling and flexing her thighs around Bigby's waist. He lowered his reach and grazed his lips across her clavicle before moving up and kissing her neck roughly. His arms tightened simultaneously and Snow finally let out a drawn-out moan.

"Bigby."

His prying arms stopped instantly. He pulled back, furrowing his brow and waiting for her to carry on.

"Can I trust you to move forward?"

He turned his head to the side, waiting for her to explain. The sounds of the city outside of the apartment walls became apparent to them for the first time in several minutes. His heavy breathing was overpowering to her, though, with an assortment of longing, exhaustion and sweetness.

She cleared her throat, "If this goes on, I need to trust you."

Bigby reached out, without thought for the first time tonight it seemed, and cupped her cheek in his calloused hands.

"Just tell me what to do."

Her eyes narrowed before she pulled on the collar of his shirt to leverage their faces closer. Her tone was flat when she finally spoke quietly, "Just take me, Bigby."

The response was immediate. His mouth returned to her neck while one hungry hand left her waist and moved further down, finding its way under her blazer and blouse. Snow struggled to unbutton both in order to prevent them from being ripped to shreds. While one of his arms wrapped completely around her back and pushed her towards him, the other was eagerly caressing her breasts and pushing her back. The balance between the two actions was heavenly and Snow felt nearly weightless.

With her front finally unbuttoned, it wasn't long before her white lace brassiere was unclasped and fell to the floor with the growing pile of clothing.

Bigby's hands finally left her upper body when they found her thighs. He grasped both before slowly standing up, forcing Snow to tighten her grip around his neck and giving her a chance to nibble at his jaw. He took a couple clumsy steps forward until he slammed her against the wall, pinning his weight against the middle of her legs. Her skirt was at Bigby's mercy as he slid it further and further up.

With his hands busy with her thighs, Snow took the opportunity to run her nails up Bigby's back and neck. She paid special attention to his hair, running her fingers through it and pulling it gently. Her slender arms were draped around his shoulders, and while he was losing himself in her, Snow felt remarkably calm. For a moment, she let her head rest upon his chest while she closed her eyes. The sound of his breathing combined with his rapidly quickening heart beat could nearly lull her to sleep, if it didn't turn her on so much. Her eyes opened when she heard his belt jangling open, and the idea that _this_ was happening finally registered to her.

A rough hand went up between her thighs, pulling down her underwear. It grazed her knees and fell to her ankles, where they clung still to her navy heels.

"Don't stop, Bigby, just keep going." Her body ached with anticipation for him. Their eyes met and that electricity between them that had existed for years finally sparked. He lowered himself to kiss her, hard, while pushing her further against the wall. It was only moments later that he thrust himself inside of her, and Snow threw her head back in ecstasy. It had been _so_ long. The action itself was a little sore, but she tried to relish in the delicious stretching her body did to accommodate him. She clung to him more and more tightly, and her hot breath licked at his ears.

Her voice said ridiculous things, things he surely already knew; ramblings about how good it felt and how he shouldn't –no – _couldn't_ stop. Everyone needs positive reinforcement every once in a while, and as she whispered encouragement into his ear, she felt outstandingly powerful. He needed her command, her attention, and now her body, _so much_. He was quite certainly in the palm of her hand, and that _certainly_ got her off.

He continued, experimenting with the angle he held her at and the certain moans they produced. It was only when he found a very specific spot, where he pushed her higher up on the wall and nuzzled the indulgently soft skin on her chest and neck that she gripped his hair and neck more tightly than ever and muttered his name longingly over and over. She came, feeling every muscle in her body tighten before she became as limp and lax as a ragdoll.

Bigby's response was only to smirk for a moment before kissing her roughly and quickening his pace, tightening his grip upon her more and more until he finished. With a slowed pace, he pushed himself into her with one final stroke before he relaxed and reluctantly pulled out of her.

Snow's feet met the wood flooring as he let her down gently. They both stood against the wall still, with shared breath and rapid heartbeat. She gazed up at him, and he looked down at her, before she started to laugh gently. It all had happened so fast, but it had had centuries of buildup. He laughed too, seemingly out of bewilderment and satisfaction, as he rested his head upon her shoulder for a moment.

Bigby pulled away from her but held onto her hand, leading her to his oversized armchair. He sat down and looked expectedly at her before he tiredly pulled her closer, nearly whispering, "Hey, come on, don't leave me just yet."

Wearing only her skirt still, Snow glanced at her clothes on the floor guiltily before she obliged and sat down on his lap, laying sideways so her legs hung over the arms of the chair and her head tucked into his shoulder and chest. He wrapped his arms around her, one under her arm and above her chest, and the other under her knees and around her thighs. In a moment, his cheek rested against her head, and they both fell asleep without another word.

* * *

Snow's eyes opened abruptly only a few hours later, immediately taking in her surroundings and remembering what had happened. Somehow, Bigby's apartment seemed messier than before, beyond the stray clothing and knocked over takeout. She felt very foreign here, despite still happily being held in Bigby's arms.

She turned to glance at him. His head rested on the back on the chair, and his usually frustrated face seemed rather peaceful. Seeing him relaxed pleased her. She buried her urge to kiss him once more. The action would wake him up and he would kiss her back, and she would have to pry herself from his embraces. Beyond sincerely wanting him to rest, Snow had hopes for not sharing an awkward goodbye on unsettled terms before she went back to the office. What terms could they possibly be on after tonight?

It was complicated. As she watched him sleep, Snow realized that part of her loved him, maybe quite deeply. She needed him. But she wasn't sure what level those feelings existed on. She knew when walking down the hallway to his apartment earlier that night that she would be affirmed of _some sort_ of feeling towards him, if she allowed herself more than a moment's conversation with him. And now here she was, in his arms, half-naked and half-asleep. Beyond the confusion, there was a sharing of knowledge; knowledge that they now both recognized this complicated set of feelings that they had for each other. In a time of self-doubt and confusion, confronting these feelings together felt like a small triumph.

That acknowledgement made her feel more whole. She hoped he would feel the same way. Either way, she wouldn't know, because he was quite good at hiding his feelings. Maybe, years from now, something more could come out of this. But presently, Snow was pleased to leave her feelings here. Gently removing his hot hands from her skin, she managed her way out of his lap without waking him up.

It was still dark outside, reassuring her that she had time to freshen up at her apartment before heading back into the office. Pulling on her blazer while brushing her hair haphazardly with her fingers, she made her way to Bigby's door.

With her hand on the doorknob, she stopped suddenly. Her eyes caught on a small photo frame sitting on his cluttered desk. She picked it up while examining it curiously. It was a group photo of the Mayor's staff from the Remembrance Day celebration a few years back. Bigby and her stood together, his arm around her shoulders with a goofy smile. He had definitely been drinking that night. Her face was exasperated but amused. They looked like friends.

She smiled, setting it back down quietly on the desk. Grabbing a pen, Snow slid a blank sheet of paper over to her writing hand. She scribbled a small note before folding it and setting it next to the picture. _Always dateless, always together, at the Remembrance Day Ball –S. _

Satisfied, Deputy Mayor Snow White opened the door before walking back down the hallway to the elevator, alone, to her apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a reminder that this is set within the events of TWAU, but with some creative changes. In my head, it's easier to construct a narrative when I'm pretending that the case takes maybe a week or two to solve. So, keep that in mind!**

**R&R is greatly appreciated! I love hearing from fellow fans. Hopefully there is more to come soon!**

* * *

_"Oh, what can I do?_  
_To turn you on or get through to you_?  
_Oh, what can I do?"_

-Lana Del Rey.

* * *

Bigby awoke with a start to the sound of his door closing. He stared at the darkness of his living room for a moment in contentedness before he remembered last night and the woman who should still be here. His arms felt rather empty and he unconsciously folded them together, seeking her now missing warmth. Her scent was still intoxicatingly strong as it hung around stubbornly, and he grimaced as if he had a hangover.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really. Once she touched him last night, he was aware of the icy layer she still kept between them. The encounter was all business, even when he was making love to her. Throughout the act, her eyes remained far away, despite her obvious enjoyment in it. It seemed that she was never fully in the room when he was around her. It had been clear to him long ago that she guarded herself fiercely in order to protect herself from further heartbreak. He hadn't considered, though, that this distance would carry-over when he was inside of her…or at least hadn't considered it when he had imagined the act before.

He stood up, taking the few steps to his kitchen. Day old coffee stood still in the pot. It would have to do for now. As it heated, Bigby focused very intently on the bitter smell. It was soothing to focus on one thing, whatever it may be, as long as it wasn't _her_…

The thought of Snow caused her toxic sweet scent to be immediately noticeable again, and the sound of Snow's unsuppressed moaning rang in his ears. His eyes closed tightly as if he was fighting off a migraine before he clenched his fist and slammed it into the counter.

He cursed at his lashing out, glancing at his scrapped knuckles. His lack of self-control was embarrassing. His fist trembled as he examined it, and Bigby realized that his whole body was shaking slightly. In an effort to calm himself, he dropped his weight down on his armchair and leaned back while breathing deeply.

He didn't like being the one left behind, or the one waiting eagerly for her to appear. He didn't like being the one that had to slink back into the office, testing the waters of their relationship, probably while making a fool out of himself somehow. He didn't like being _himself_ in general. Let alone being an unattainable and distant woman's lapdog.

And yet, here he was.

Bigby sat forward and put his head in his hands. He accepted that he was alone.

* * *

Luckily for Bigby, so many things had happened by the time he got back to the office that there wasn't time for the awkward morning-after. Snow was barking new information at him from the moment he opened the door. She already stood at her new desk, and looked very confident while doing so. While she gathered her things to accompany him on their investigation, Bigby stole an overlong gaze at her. She was glowing, and despite her frustration and anxiety over the situation, she seemed more graceful than before. Bigby briefly considered if that had more to do with her new position or her with visit with him. He tried to tell himself that he was responsible for her good mood as he held the door open for her on their way out.

It had been interesting having Snow come along with him on this investigation. At first, it seemed to have more to do with her need to control him than her want to actually help. He watched her carefully though, and he saw her grow an appreciation for working hands-on with the people she represented. And despite constantly making him pause and consider his actions and typically complicating a situation, he admired her dedication to it.

Walking into different clubs and bars and dingy apartment complexes, Bigby couldn't help but notice a contradiction between them. Snow worked famously with people, and they seemed to trust her instantly. She was pretty, certainly not physically threatening, and her voice for dealing with the public, generally, was silky sweet. She could explain the hardest of situations to nearly anyone and receive a warm reaction back.

But when it came to the tough choices, Snow stuck relentlessly to the rules. He didn't resent her for that, but her moral calculations were cold and meticulous. He was nearly jealous of her ability to push her feelings aside to get the job done.

Meanwhile, Bigby simply walking into a building would cause the inhabitants to scatter. Fear was a thing that used to make him feel powerful, but now it only made him uneasy. He hated talking to battered women and watching them inch away from him, trying their hardest to not make eye contact or make him angry. He hated walking into bars and being everyone's enemy before even speaking. Carrying this coarse persona around while being someone who really did try to accommodate people's needs was…tough. It wore on him heavier every day.

And while he watched Snow make the hard choices effortlessly and then walk into a room without being hated, he couldn't help but regret that his reputation had preceded him in Fabletown, to the point where a thousand good deeds done now couldn't make up for it.

It wasn't all easy for her, though. In most situations, Snow spoke first to interviewees and eloquently explained to them the situation and why they were there. Bigby would stand to the side with his arms crossed and generally be an intimidating asshole that filled in the blanks of Snow's words.

This routine didn't work so well on gruff guys who had enough experience being interviewed by the police to not take it seriously. They typically watched Snow with amusement, something she never really seemed to catch. When she did, her well-spoken nature tried even harder to compensate. _This is a serious situation, we need your cooperation to…_

They would laugh at her face, call her a whore, or simply just walk away from their conversation. Her lips would purse before her voice would become more stern and unaccommodating. Bigby tried not to get himself involved until the last moment and let her continue with her questions. But the simple fact was that there were men who refused to take her seriously, for whatever bullshit reason they had. And Bigby hated that, too.

When the day's leads only turned up more leads, they found themselves back at the business office. Snow was trying her best to ignore Bigby's over-friendliness. His attempts to make her laugh were met with small smiles and quick glances, but she never allowed him to get too off topic.

As she filed paperwork and ordered Buffkin around, Bigby leaned on her desk sleepily. He listened to her numerous permutations of possibilities that they now should consider after today. Every once in a while, he would try to add in something useful, but it rarely helped much.

"Bigby?"

His eyes opened wide and he jolted forward, "What?"

"Go get some sleep."

He rubbed his eyes but shook his head stubbornly, "If _I _need sleep, then you need sleep, too."

"I'm not the one with a buckshot in my shoulder."

"Swineheart pulled that all out of me, you know that," He relaxed against the desk again, folding his arms before his eyes closed involuntarily again.

"I'm letting you go early tonight. You're not of any use to me like this. I'm going to turn in in a few hours, anyway."

"Tell me exactly what I've been useful for lately."

Snow was silent. He sighed, finally standing up straight before walking to door.

"I'll be back. Get me if anything else comes up."

He shut the door a little too hard, but carried down the hallway all the same.

* * *

Sleeping for only an hour and restlessly staring at the ceiling otherwise, Bigby felt more hollow than usual. His apartment seemed suffocating and empty. Even for the small size, the total void of it made him nearly wish for something smaller. The clock ticked endlessly, posing itself as a constant reminder of being absent from the office. He sat up straight in his chair as he realized that he had forgotten to remind Snow of the impending financial report that was due to the Mayor later this week, one that Bluebeard had held over Bigby's head earlier today. He cursed as he put on his jacket, but sleep was a joke at this point in his life, and, to be honest with himself, seeing Snow again was a more exciting venture.

Opening the door to the office, he expected to see Snow, sitting and frowning at her desk. It took him by surprise to see Buffkin alone on the floor, still reading.

"Back so soon, Bigby."

Bigby squinted before glancing around, "Did Snow turn in, Buffkin?"

The imp shook his head and waved his hand towards the exit, "She left a little while ago to check some place out."

"What place?"

"Uhh…." He scratched his head, getting lost in the book in front of him again.

"What _place_, Buffkin?"

"Oh! That club, um… The Detour, I think she said."

Bigby walked closer to him before gruffly restating, "The Detour?"

Buffkin nodded without removing himself from his book.

"How long has it been?"

"I'm not sure," His feathers ruffled in thought, "Maybe an hour or so ago."

Bigby turned on his heels and left the office, without saying goodbye.

It was only a quarter of an hour later when he got out of a cab at the entrance of the small club. It didn't completely take him by surprise that Snow was here, really. An interviewee earlier had mentioned some suspicions about mysterious shipments to the building, which didn't surprise him, either. Unlike the neon faux-glamour of The Pudding and Pie, The Detour was an unabashedly trashy dive of a bar, and not a very popular one at that. The wood panel walls seemed to sag as Bigby entered the room, and the lights flickered in neglect.

In the small entrance, a frail looking woman was wiping down the counter. She didn't spare a glance up before she motioned behind herself, "Dancers are in the back. No cover tonight."

He stared at the woman for a moment before walking further through the threshold in front of him. The backroom was dim and the twang of music became louder. The bar wrapped around a small, empty stage in the middle of the square room. It wasn't a busy night; only a few men were seated and were either alone or talking to one of the well-endowed servers. It was a relatively nonthreatening situation, but Bigby's lips curled at the sudden detection of Snow's scent. She was nowhere to be seen, but her presence in the building was certain.

A stout , youthful man in a tight t-shirt was next to the doorway that Bigby stood in. He crossed his arms and took a step forward, recognizing Bigby instantly like any good bouncer would. He sized him up cautiously before speaking finally, "Sheriff? You need something?"

"I'm looking for the Deputy Mayor, Snow White."

"What business would she have in a place like this?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

The man shrunk a little before shrugging in earnest, "Well, I don't know. I just got here, but I haven't seen her."

"Don't play dumb. You know I'm smarter than that."

Defensively now, he recoiled slightly, "Fuck off, I haven't seen her, Sheriff."

Bigby took a step forward, forcing the bouncer back against the wall. He enunciated carefully, "Where is she?" His voice trailed and curdled into a rough growl.

The man struggled to stand his ground against the Sheriff, but he managed to broaden his shoulders before staring at Bigby straight in the eyes. In a calm voice, he responded matter-of-factly, "She's not here. I don't think this is the kind of place she'd meet you for a date, anyways."

It was a moment later Bigby's hand was wrapped around the young man's throat. He held him tightly up against the wall before slinging him roughly to the side towards the bar area.

The patrons and the servers were all now watching in curiosity and fear. One of the servers screamed before she ran to a back door. Everyone else stayed silent.

Bigby walked calmly over to the man before lowering himself and grabbing his collar. He pushed him roughly against the bar, pushing several chairs out of the way, before he leaned in closely to the bouncer's face.

"If you don't tell me where she is, I'll—"

The sheriff stopped suddenly when his eyes happened to land on one of the barstools next to him. Snow's powder-blue jacket was resting neatly on its back. Still holding the man up by his collar, a large balding man ran out of the back office.

"Sheriff! What are you doing?"

Bigby dropped the bouncer abruptly before grabbing at Snow's jacket.

"_Where_ is Snow White?" He lifted her jacket up and shook it at the groveling boss, "I _know_ this is hers and I _know_ she's here. Where is she?"

The boss looked between the jacket and the sheriff before clasping his hands together and shaking his head, "Oh, no, Mr. Wolf. Ms. White was just here maybe a half hour ago, she dropped by to ask me some questions. I gave her a drink and then she left…She must have forgotten her jacket. I'm sorry…"

Bigby's mouth went dry, and he slowly glanced at the faces of the people watching him. Their eyes were frightened and most were eyeing the exit keenly. It wasn't unusual to be singled out and alone in a room as the town sheriff, but it was still a feeling that tore at Bigby's nerves.

He held onto his resolve and strode forward, pointing angrily at his chest, "I'm going to believe _that_ when—"

"Sheriff," A petite brunette server spoke calmly with a small crack in her voice, "Ms. White really did just leave. I gave her her drink. A lemon martini." The woman looked down while wringing her hands together in nervousness.

The heaviness of everyone's stares hit Bigby. The weight of their fear and his slow realization that Snow was almost certainly back at the Woodlands made him feel sick.

Sheepishly, Bigby straightened her jacket on his forearm before pushing a chair back neatly. The silence was overwhelming, and he had to force his voice to start again, "…I'm sorry for the mix-up and the interruption. There was a…miscommunication. Have a good night."

Bigby turned on his heels and left, cursing himself as he maneuvered his way out of the club. He was out on the street a minute later. The night was warm and a slight drizzle had started. He held onto Snow's jacket tightly as he walked quietly back to The Woodlands.

* * *

It was now Bigby who stood in front of Snow's door. His heartbeat was still pounding with anger and nerves. He hated to think of what he would do if she didn't answer.

He released his held breath when he heard her small footsteps creak through the wall. The heavy lock tumbled open and her blue eyes met with his. She was wrapped in a dark blue robe, and while she peeked out at him from behind the door, he could feel her frustration at him for showing up at her door while she was like this.

"Can I come in, please?" His voice was gruff and he took a presumptuous step forward.

Her eyes narrowed and he could see her complicated thoughts play on her expression. She resigned herself to opening the door and he walked in sternly. Her apartment was ornate, spotless, and cold. Despite being polished and cared for, Snow's place was just like Bigby's; a room that didn't feel lived in.

She turned from the doorway after closing it quietly. Tilting her face forward, she looked down on him before asking incredulously, "What are you doing here?...Is that my jacket? How did you get that?"

Bigby threw it on her white-gold couch. He twisted around and pointed his finger at her, "I got it from The Detour. You forgot it there."

Her face twisted in response, but Bigby quickly added, "You should have told me you were planning on going to that club alone. I don't like not knowing where you are right now."

Snow guffawed, "I went because I wanted to rest tonight knowing that I did everything I could today. How did you even know where I was?"

"Buffkin told me. Look, you may be my boss, but _I'm_ the sheriff. I handle investigations. I know this is fun for you, but you don't go talk to suspects with alerting me _first_."

"It was on our list. _Our _list. And what do you mean, this is _fun_ for me?" Her voice rose perilously.

"It's fun because you have an excuse to be hands-on and mess with my business."

She took the few steps forward that separated them and looked Bigby in the eye, "This whole _situation_ is just as much my business as it is yours. You didn't have a problem with me helping you today."

"I was _there_ today. I could oversee the investigation. That's important."

"You mean you were there to oversee _me_. I need you to trust that I can handle myself, Bigby. Some people…are more open to me. Sometimes I think it's better for me to go alone."

"I think it's up to me to make that decision."

Her arms crossed again and her voice was flat, "It isn't, Bigby. It's up to me."

Moments passed and the only sound in the room was their frustrated breathing. Her body heat was noticeable now and he could sense her quickening heartbeat as he leaned teasingly closer. He was aware suddenly of how much larger he was than her. He stood over her and watched her squirm in her memories of last night in their shared silence.

Snow regained composure soon, though. She pulled her body back and spoke quietly, "You're worried that something's going to happen. I think you're too afraid of losing me. We should be more professional."

Bigby's eyes narrowed before he snarled, "I've been alone for a long time, Snow. Don't flatter yourself."

Her mouth opened in preparation of responding, and then snapped close. Her wide eyes looked up at him, darting back and forth across his face. Standing still for a moment, Bigby softened as her eyes filled with hurt.

She moved back away from him, and he desperately reached out to grab her hand. She recoiled from him instantly before she hissed, "Don't fucking touch me." Her head shook and she turned quickly down her hallway, "I have a bath running. I need to shut it off."

"Snow, wait—"

She disappeared from view, and Bigby gripped his fist tightly. He listened to her careful movements in the echo of the bathroom. She seemed to be letting the bath continue to run and in his mind's eye, he saw her leaning against the wall and looking at her mirror, exhausted. She was probably asking herself why she had become involved with a guy like him.

The bath shut off and she returned in a moment, avoiding his eyes and keeping her distance. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, "If all you wanted was to return my jacket, then you can go." She wrapped her arms around her chest, grabbing the cloth of her robe and gently twisting it between her fingers. Her eyes were once again far away from the conversation.

Bigby rubbed his face, putting his hand on the wall next to him for support. He nearly grabbed the door knob when he finally spoke slowly, "Did you find out anything, talking to the owner?"

Snow's eyebrows rose, before she answered confidently, "They thought I was busting them for mundy taxes. I asked them about black market magic and he played dumb. He said the shipments were overflow from his brother's business, but that it's all cleared out now. He let me look around. They were nice. Nervous, though."

"Do you think someone is pulling their strings? Holding their business hostage or something?"

"I really don't know. I'm tired of getting this uneasy feeling from everyone all the time. I get that they're nervous to be talking to us, but this isn't normal. Are we really so out of touch in our own community?

Bigby's heart sunk and he turned to Snow sheepishly. Her large eyes were wrought with concern and hurt, and it struck him how common pain was to her. Her lips were always being bitten at and her eyebrows were always furrowing. And now, after last night, she seemed even more unsettled. A pang of guilt hit Bigby unexpectedly and he sighed, resigning himself to his actions.

"I fucked up tonight. I went to that club, and I thought I had everything figured out. I knew you had to be there. It smelled so much like you and I just…was imagining you being in trouble. Like you had uncovered something and they were never going to let you leave."

Snow took a step closer and softened her stiff shoulders as she watched him.

"I lost it. I scared everyone in the room."

"What do you mean…'lost it'?"

He gave a one-note laugh under his breath. Snow's expression revealed her anxiety. Had he killed everyone? Had he destroyed the bar? What had he _done_?

"I just…I fucking _scared_ everyone. Got angry, nearly tore through all their shit. They were all scared. I confirmed all of their worst suspicions. This case has been about getting the community to open up. You've been helping, but… I keep fucking up. I keep thinking that I'm better than that," He sighed and let his forehead thud against the wall he was leaning against, "But I'm not."

They were both quiet and her gaze burned upon him. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in frustration at himself.

Snow reached out and touched his shoulder, and cooed, "You are, Bigby. I know it."

His eyes snapped open and he pushed himself up from the wall suddenly, startling her. Her sweetness now irritated him and made him feel weak. Growling, he took a step closer and stood over her again, "I'm _not_."

Snow stepped backwards nervously before she hit the wall with her back, much like the bouncer earlier tonight.

"You are, Bigby. I see it in you. I always have."

Her sweet words continued, but Bigby only felt more and more animal. His claws extended slightly and he reached out to her face. She jumped at the touch of his palm and closed her gaping mouth. Holding onto her jaw, Bigby run his now-long thumbnail against her pouting red lips. He could smell her increasing desire and the sweat of fear running across her temple.

He slowly lowered his mouth to her ear, grazing his breath against her hair, and whispered, "I think part of you, deep inside, likes that I'm not."

Her lip quivered and her breath hitched inside her throat. Bigby slowly lifted his free hand up and rested it upon her clavicle. Keeping his hand firm upon her flesh, he grazed his hand over slowly towards her shoulder. His fingers slid under the silken fabric of her robe, and as he continued to move, it slowly fell off her shoulder. Snow watched his face carefully as her expression mixed fear with curiosity.

In one quick swipe, Bigby reached behind her neck, pulling the collar of the robe down her back. Her other shoulder was freed, and the fabric hung around the tie at her waist. She was perfectly exposed and he transfixed on her body. Glancing back to her face momentarily, he caught her surprise.

He buried himself into a rough kiss, one hand holding her jaw in place and the other desperately pawing at her chest. She purred and moaned at his touch, and he could feel her nearly letting go of her inhibition.

She tilted her head back, exposing her porcelain neck to his hungry mouth. He bit and sucked on her flesh roughly and eagerly. She gave a small moan at first, but it turned into silence. Her body tensed but he held on, gripping onto her desperately and inhaling her precious smell. The words she spoke dissolved into the air as he pushed harder against her.

"Bigby!"

She placed all her weight against his shoulders, shoving him hard away from her. Bigby stumbled backward and nearly fell down in his surprise. He took a moment to stabilize himself in his hot anger. Before he took a step forward to return to her body, he shrunk at the sight of Snow's face.

Her expression was twisted, with her brow furrowed in irritation as she quickly pulled her robe back around her shoulders. Her mouth opened to say something, but she only shook her head. She stopped looking at him before she let her head fall and held her face in her hands. Bigby's stomach felt like it was collapsing and his throat tightened at the sight of her anguish.

Snow lifted her head up after a moment. Her face was brazen and strong now, as she met his eyes again.

"I need you to go, Bigby. Please."

His eyes narrowed on her bitten neck, where an angry red bruise was already forming. His breathing became quick and shallow in panic.

"Snow, I'm—"

She crossed her arms and shook her head. Bigby's mouth shut and he looked down at his feet in shame. He took a moment to collect himself before he adjusted his shirt, giving Snow one final glance before he grabbed the doorknob and left.

The door closed behind him, and he stood in the hallway, alone once again. A wave of nausea hit him like a punch, and he desperately reached for his cigarettes in his pocket. His hands shook as he flicked his lighter several times before it finally lit.

It was nearly burnt out by he made it back to his apartment, where he collapsed into his chair to stare at the darkness and light another cigarette. The noise and smell of the city crept into his needed isolation, and Bigby could do nothing but dwell on it.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm adding a quick note to address that I'm still editing this chapter. I've had some close friends review it and I'd rather finish working on this chapter constructively before I continue to the next chapter. I didn't want to remove it though, after I got so many nice comments about it. So hold tight!

T/W: Torture and innuendos/aftermaths of sexual assault are in this fic. Please be advised.

_Alright. I was thinking about this fic and how to continue it. I had an epiphany that while I'm writing fics, I should just go wild and write big. So, I hope you don't mind me taking this so-far mellow story and adding some action to it._

* * *

Snow stood still, staring at her doorway coldly for a long time. She shook her head and tried to remove herself from the daze she was trapped in before she pulled her robe tightly around her shoulders. It was cold now.

She walked down her hallway lightly to the parlor and to her small liquor cabinet without pause, opening a well-used bottle of gin. Her hands were steady as she poured it straight, but the crystal glass shook slightly as it met her lips.

Her parlor's window seat was upholstered finely and crowded by silken pillows that she had to toss to the side before sitting down. She put her legs up, folding her knees and leaning them towards the window as she rested her forehead against the glass. It was her favorite spot in her apartment; from the window, she could see the street below and the twinkle of lights blocks away, before _just_ catching the night sky above her, between buildings. The wonder of it nearly filled the homelands-sized hole in her heart. Sometimes.

She peered downwards, knowing that Bigby's apartment was below her somewhere and that he was probably throwing things about and smoking and being generally irritable. Without thought, a thumb grazed the sore spot on her neck where he had bitten her. Honestly, he could have continued biting and ravishing her for the rest of the night if it had only been about pleasure. It wasn't, though, and Snow knew where to draw the line. He seemed wild, uncontrollable, and sad. He had been good at hiding these perplexities until his emotions poured out of him suddenly, and it transformed him into a walking mess. Snow didn't need, or want that, on her hands right now.

Snow bit her lip as she considered the overwhelming complications that they now shared between their bodies. Inevitably, things would have to settle down. But for now, they shared heat and frustration and they threw it at each other whenever the professionalism dropped.

She took another drink and the stars grew a little bit blurrier. Her head rested comfortably on the cool glass, and Snow's eyes slowly drifted shut.

Her eyes opened sometime later to the sound of a crash somewhere in her apartment. The parlor was black except for the sparse light from the city, and as she sat up in confusion, her eyes transfixed on the doorway and the still-lit hallway. Heavy footsteps were coming closer to the threshold, and Snow reacted quickly, grabbing a silver letter opener that she had lazily forgotten on the cabinet when reading her mail the other day.

Taking a step forward to hide, her body froze when the footsteps stopped. A shadow crawled from the doorway. Snow looked up hesitantly at the man whose face she could not make out, other than a creeping grin as he recognized the deputy mayor.

* * *

Bigby groggily reached for the telephone as it rang violently, cursing at his luck. He had only just fallen asleep, and he sighed loudly before putting the heavy phone to his ear. His voice was coarse and he cleared his throat before speaking gruffly, "What is it?"

"Bigby."

_Shit_. "What is it, Snow?"

There was silence. His annoyance suddenly turned to concern when she didn't immediately respond, and Bigby leaned forward on his knees as he listened carefully.

Her voice caught slightly when she spoke again, faintly, "I need your help. My door's unlocked."

Bigby's mouth opened to ask more questions, but he was already standing up and pulling on his shoes, "I'll be _right_ there, don't move, okay?" He dropped the phone and walked back to her apartment immediately.

He reached her door in a minute's time, knocking before turning the doorknob without waiting. The apartment was dark, but her cracking voice quickly rung out from her hallway as she called out his name. Bigby sought her out before rounding the corner to the parlor door, only to stop harshly.

His eyes trailed up to Snow, who was being held tightly by Jersey, the greasy rat who owned the pawn shop down the block. One arm was wrapped around her waist, while the other held a silver Bowie knife to her throat. Shattered glass littered the floor and Snow's cabinet had been turned over. There had obviously been a fight, and it showed on Snow's disappointed face. Bigby's eyes widened at the sight of Snow's swollen, bloody lip, and for a moment, the two lovers shared eye contact. Her face held a passive, resigning anger, and guilt showed in her large eyes that sought to quickly escape his gaze.

Bigby's eyes yellowed in rage and his claws already started to extend before Jersey pulled roughly back on Snow's neck, digging the blade into her exposed veins.

"How fucking dumb are you, Sheriff? You don't get to play wolf right now. Why do you think I went to the trouble of snagging her?" Jersey's nauseating twang was worsened by him lifting Snow off the ground for a moment as he pulled her tightly to him. She struggled against him despite the knife, meeting Bigby's eyes again before speaking tightly, "Bigby, just kill them."

Bigby's face turned back to the door slightly as the floor creaked, and a stocky man he didn't recognize leaned closely to him, mockingly. Bigby stared both of them down, still flexing his anger in his claws, thinking quickly about what he could possibly do without making the situation worse. He saw no immediate option, and his heart rate rose in panic.

"We're taking you both somewhere else. If you—" Jersey pointed explicitly at Bigby, "try _anything_, we'll cut her head off while you _watch_."

Snow's eyes narrowed in deep anger. Bigby could see the gears turning in her head, the same as they were turning in his, but she had nowhere to go.

Jersey's hand left Snow's waist, keeping the knife tightly at her neck, and reached to a pistol in his back pocket. Bigby watched him carefully before jumping in shock when Jersey pulled it back and cracked the butt of the gun on Snow's head. The eye contact they held dissolved as her mouth opened in shock before she tumbled forward limply, bending at her waist that Jersey still clung to.

Bigby nearly leapt forward before being tackled by the man behind him, and it was only a moment before the world turned black for Bigby, too.

* * *

The first thing Bigby was aware of when he awoke was Snow's quiet, confident tone responding to coarse-sounding questions by foreign voices. His eyes opened later, blinking slowly as his mind went numb with dull pain. The voices around him continued, talking quietly. The concrete floor beneath him seemed to blur as his memories returned and he lifted his head.

Another female voice announced, "He's up."

"Bigby…" Snow's voice was quiet, but nearby and resilient.

The woman's voice barked, "Shut. Up."

Finally looking up, Bigby's eyes met with Snow. She was across from him, sitting in a chair with her hands behind her back. Crimson blood had flowed down her chin and dried down her neck and clavicle. Her eyes were wide with energy, unlike his, and her gaze looked desperate and worried.

His eyes followed through with the rest of the small room. It was industrial looking, with bare cement walls. Bloody Mary, a lanky Fable whose murderous reputation preceded her, stood next to Snow with her arms crossed, her hand holding a long silver knife. Opposite from her was a nervous-looking Tweedle Dee who seemed to be shrinking into the wall, trying his hardest to avoid Bigby's eyes. Bigby gave him a sour glare before returning to Mary's looming form.

She watched Bigby amusedly before she spoke, "Alright, wolf. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the _hard_ way."

Bigby's shallow breaths returned when he lifted his hands to find they were tied behind his back as well. A growl started deep in his throat, causing Mary to shake her head and smirk before taking a step closer to Snow.

"Bigby, it's just like we told you. If you pull anything funny, you're not going to have any time to save your boss…or your lover. Which one do you prefer, Snow?"

Snow leaned forward and fought against her restraints, nearly spitting at Mary, "You'd have to cut my head off and throw my body to the wolves before I'd die. It doesn't matter, Bigby."

Mary interjected quickly, "It's funny you say that, Snow, because that's exactly what we've planned for you if you don't cooperate. Everyone's had a lot of great ideas about how to desecrate your corpse, if necessary. We're _all _hoping you or Bigby will slip up."

Bigby ignored Mary and looked up guiltily at Snow before shaking his head lamely, "You can't know that, Snow."

Her lip quivered in anger at Bigby's dismissal and her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"Wow. The big bad wolf already folds. I thought I'd have to cut off one of her fingers first."

A masculine laugh rang out behind Bigby, a voice he didn't recognize.

"Well, now that we convinced the Sheriff, we gotta convince the Deputy Mayor."

"Of what?" He turned and directed it towards her, "Of what, Snow?"

Snow looked away and didn't respond to Bigby's pleading.

"We're just trying to get her to do some talking. She's been very resistant so far. Don't worry so much, Sheriff," Mary walked closer to Bigby, and the stout, pale man from Snow's apartment came forward, standing behind Snow now with his own knife. He placed his wide hands on Snow's shoulders, with the sharp side of the short knife facing Snow's skin. His free hand laid on Snow's neck, with a wandering thumb caressing her jaw and holding her chin forward. Snow cringed momentarily before becoming passive again, and Bigby felt nauseous.

Mary walked around Bigby slowly, speaking in a sickly sing-song cadence, "Because of her stubbornness, I guess we'll just have to go ahead. Show her what bad behavior gets. Okay, Bigby?"

Snow pushed forward into her seat and shook her head, "Please don't, please don't do this. We just want to help." The man holding her face tightened his grip to restrain her thrashing.

Mary went behind Bigby's back, returning with a wooden bat resting on her shoulder. With great show, she paused, lifting the bat in front of her and giving it a few practice swings. She laughed, amused with herself, before turning suddenly, bashing the bat across Bigby's face. It made a retched wet crack against Bigby's cheek that hung in the concrete room. Snow jumped and words started pouring from her mouth, pleading words that Bigby couldn't make out. Mary took another swing, not leaving any amount of her strength unused. The blows disoriented him, but he tried to form words to calm down Snow, constantly repeating, "Don't talk to them, Snow."

After one last hit, Mary dropped the bat on the concrete floor. It bounced back and forth as she pulled her knife from her pocket once more. She examined it, reflecting the fluorescent light into her eyes before she stepped closer.

"That was for being stubborn. The rest of this is for good measure," Mary turned to Snow playfully, "Say when."

Mary's long fingers reached out to Bigby's bloody face. Her touch repelled him, but she carried on, holding it as she brought the knife closer. She dragged the edge of it down his cheek, making him wince. She watched his eyes carefully, and he kept her gaze without backing down. With no warning, she lifted the knife from the incision in his cheek and stabbed him in his shoulder, jamming the silver knife down toward his chest. Bigby tossed around, nearly losing his ability to keep the wolf within him. He looked across at Snow, whose face was still being gripped roughly by the man. He was leaning down, with his face nearly next to Snow's, his breath moving the strands of hair that fell near her cheek. The pain in Bigby's shoulder was excruciating, but his focus on Snow's discomfort and fear was what made him feel ill.

"That's enough! Stop, please, we can talk. We can talk now," Snow's voice was shrill as she leaned forward, the knife's edge dragging across her throat. Bigby shook his head and shouted his disagreement at Snow, but she refused to even glance at him as he begged her not to give into them.

Mary turned to Snow without letting go of the knife in Bigby's shoulder. The silver started to burn wildly under his skin. "You sure about that, Princess?" Mary pushed the knife further in as she waited for confirmation. Bigby's resolve was lost when he let out an agonized moan.

"Just let him go…please."

"Can't do that. But I can stop this," Mary pulled the knife up and out in one quick move. Bigby sighed in relief, but the burning of silver still raged. He leaned forward in his seat and gasped for air. He hung his head low as he listened to Mary bark orders at the man holding Snow, telling him to start working on her while she moved Bigby.

Bigby spoke slowly, with each word punctuated by a short breath, "Why can't I be here? I'm not leaving without Snow."

Dee stepped forwardly finally and spoke quietly, "I don't know, Mary. I don't think this is the right decision," He wrung his hands lightly while looking cautiously towards Snow.

"Well, it's a good thing that nobody _cares_ what you think, then," Mary smirked, wiping the blood from her knife on her pant leg before turning back to Bigby, "Maybe you won't want to be here, slick. But don't worry. You'll get her back. Keeping her alive is what's keeping you so mellow."

Mary grabbed at the back of his chair, pulling it behind her to drag it across the floor and out of the room. He watched Snow sit up, with a face full of worry and sadness. He tried to give her a small, reassuring smile, to say that things were okay. The door closed between them abruptly though, and soon Bigby was dragged into a hallway and into the room directly across, one that mirrored the first one with the exception of a metal table that sat empty in the middle of the room. Bigby could only guess that they were in the back office area of a warehouse somewhere.

"What is he going to do to her?"

Mary leaned against the table, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and lighting one mockingly. She inhaled then exhaled towards Bigby.

"He's doing what he does best. Getting information."

His eyes narrowed, unsatisfied, "What do you want from us?"

Mary laughed, staring at the ceiling before answering snidely, "We're trying to compromise, Bigby. That's what we want."

Bigby winced at the growing burn in his shoulder before speaking slowly, "Snow will never compromise. That's not how she works."

A cry rang out from the room across from them, and Bigby looked up longingly at the door.

Mary smiled and took another puff from her cigarette, "We'll see."

The two enemies sat in silence, and Bigby's mind focused on the instances of Snow's voice that he could hardly make out. His anger, with no release, was starting to bubble around the edges of his restraint and exhaustion. The wound in his shoulder was already starting to heal, thankfully, but it was a throbbing ache.

Mary, meanwhile, was listening carefully, sometimes standing next to the door to listen more closely to her colleague without leaving the room. It seemed like an enormously long time, but a loud knock on the outer walls seem to signal the completion of the task. She left the door open while crossing the hallway, allowing Bigby a view of the other room.

The door opened, revealing the man whose knuckles were stained red. He smiled at Mary, and their words could be heard but dissolved into warehouse walls as Bigby caught his first glimpse of Snow's empty chair. His eyes followed to the floor where she lay, her eyes closed and swollen, in a pool of dark, shiny blood. Her shirt was torn open, exposing her bare chest to the cold ground.

There was a cold moment where Bigby didn't care if Snow was alive or dead. He only felt rage. And as the three were discussing next moves, the nylon tying his wrists to the chair snapped. He stood, getting larger and losing the shreds of humanity he felt, knowing this was his last ditch effort to do something. Without thought or hesitation, Bigby leaped across the threshold, landing on the man who had hurt Snow so badly and biting his throat.

Things moved very quickly after that, as Bigby became more wolf than man and tore the throat out of the thug. Dee yelped and stumbled to the opposite end of the room, avoiding the mayhem as he pressed himself flatly against the wall. Bigby saw Snow move out of the corner of his eye, which should have relieved him, but it didn't. Bigby didn't feel anything, and it was only when he turned to finish Bloody Mary did he see her holding Snow in her arms, holding the menacing blade to her throat once more, a threat Bigby was tired of seeing. Dee stood next to her with wide eyes before he pushed himself further into the corner.

"I'm not fucking kidding about this, wolf," Mary's voice was stern, but desperate sounding as she took a small step back.

Bigby came close to just attacking her, not caring about the consequences, but he couldn't overcome his fear. Snow's eyes were calm and surprisingly lucid, and as Bigby took an overlong gaze at her, he noticed a small, shining blade in her still tied hands that were in front of her. A letter opener, maybe. He started to growl loudly, causing Mary to focus on him instead of Snow's moving hand. In one swift motion, Snow landed the point of the blade into Mary's thigh.

It was barely enough to startle her momentarily, but Snow quickly started to pull herself out of Mary's arms. Her shock only lasted a moment however, and as Snow freed herself from her grasp, Mary's blade dragged deeply across Snow's stomach and chest, tearing her flesh raggedly. Snow dropped to the ground, and with her out of the way, Bigby could now pin Mary against the wall with his claws. Mary's eyes were turning black in rage and he knew that Snow and him would not live if they stayed much longer, despite their momentary advantage. Bigby pinned her neck with one clawed hand, and the other dragged Snow up from the floor. She clung to him while clutching her stomach tightly, and her voice urged him to leave.

With one final pause, he let go of Mary, whose seething body shook with rage. Despite her anger, she stayed against the wall and gave a small smirk, a playful one that revealed her satisfaction with the situation. Snow and Bigby backed away slowly from the now-seemingly apathetic pair.

Dee's voice asked quickly and shrilly, "Is that _it_?"

"We got what we _wanted_, that's all that matters. Let them go."

Without looking back, Bigby turned down the hallway holding Snow, discovering that he was correct about the warehouse assumption as they ran. It seemed abandoned, with a wide opened doorway that led them both outside to a roughly recognizable area on the edge of the city. Snow was on the verge of collapsing, and Bigby had to stop to carry her in his arms.

In a few blocks, in a forgotten alleyway, Bigby stopped his quick strides while his humanity mostly returned. He slowly dropped Snow from his arms, resting her against the cold brick of the building next to them. The wound on her stomach was pouring blood, and Snow's pale hands moved to put pressure on it while she desperately avoided Bigby's eyes. Her voice cracked as she spoke incredulously, the blood seeping between her fingers, "God, am I going to die, Bigby?"

He carefully lifted her forward from the wall to help remove her splattered blazer from her arms, before he pushed it down to her waist and tied the arms around her stomach until it was tight around the wound.

"I thought they'd have to cut your head off and toss you to the wolves before you died, Snow," He joked, but his stomach tightened as he watched the blood seep through her jacket quickly.

Snow stared for a moment before giving a tiny smile and a one-note laugh. Bigby smiled too, and they shared a quiet moment together, the hum of the quiet city surrounding them with welcome familiarity.

"There's a payphone right here on the corner. I'm gonna call someone to come get you. There's no way I can walk you to the Woodlands like this."

Snow struggled for breath and her voice cracked, but she still managed, "Is…is your shoulder okay?"

Bigby hadn't thought of the fiery wound yet, and it flickered in pain when she mentioned it, "It's nothing I can't handle. Don't worry about me, Snow. Please."

Snow seemed dissatisfied but didn't offer a retort. He squeezed her hand before he stood up and jogged over to the payphone, calling Dr. Swineheart and offering the most basic explanation of their circumstances and their location. As per usual, Swineheart never expressed much human interest beyond what was medically necessary, but Bigby appreciated his curtness now.

He returned to Snow, whose eyes seemed further away as they lost their usual alertness.

"The doctor's coming. Stay with me, okay? Don't fall asleep," He reached out to her face. It was drenched in cold sweat. She looked up at him and tried to give a reassuring grin, but her lips quivered and her shoulders went limp in exhaustion.

"You're freezing. We're gonna get up, okay? They'll be here soon."

He bent down, placing one arm under her chest and the other under her leg before he picked her up in his arms. She winced, but relaxed her head on his chest, much like she had the other night. He tried his hardest not to disturb the wound and its makeshift tourniquet as he leaned his weight against the brick wall. The city was black and quiet, and the summer's air was still. His heartbeat seemed to be slowing finally.

"Don't leave me, please."

Bigby looked down, surprised to hear her voice again. He leaned his chin forward to her ear, speaking quietly, "I'm not gonna leave you. They're not going to drag you away without me following you around. You know me."

He could feel her relax slightly in his arms, and she spoke softly, "I do know you."

In a minute, Swineheart's car pulled up next to them, and they headed back to the Woodlands together.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's a Halloween miracle! The final chapter is now here. I will be sure to continue with more TWAU/Fables after this. Thanks for the love & support the past few months. I hope it's been worth it. I'm always open for a convo here or at my tumblr over ladybolt  
**

* * *

The sun forced Snow's eyes open, pulling her rudely from slumber. Her golden-splashed bedroom ceiling and chandelier greeted her while she gathered her thoughts. She felt _good_; rested, for the first time in ages. A small sense of alarm still gripped her, however, and she quickly sat up, causing her heavy white sheets to fall off of her.

The soreness in her belly flared, and she gripped at it before looking down and examining her chest. Her blouse was still on, but was only buttoned from the top, down to the start of her ribcage. A linen bandage was wrapped neatly around her stomach, hiding the soreness that ached under it. She placed her pale hand on the cloth, grazing it over the slight texture of the mended wound beneath it.

"Snow?"

She looked up at her doorway where the thin Dr. Swineheart stood. He walked over to her bed and put his hands together in front of him before he spoke calmly, "How are you feeling?"

She sat up straighter, keeping a hand on her torso as she cleared her throat, "Fine. I feel fine. A little…sore."

Swineheart grunted in affirmation before laying a hand on her forehead and pausing. His palm was dry and cool, and Snow's eyes shut for a moment. They opened again when the seemingly satisfied doctor pulled away. Her eyes caught on the sheriff who now leaned against her threshold and peered into the room. Their eyes met, and she let them linger before she looked back at the doctor.

"You're going to be fine. Don't jump or run around for a little while, you don't want to pull out those stiches. I'll come see you tomorrow to check up on it, though. So don't worry."

She smiled and nodded, "Thank you for your…availability."

"That's what they pay me for. Now, I think the sheriff is here, waiting…I assume he wants to talk to you—"

"Right here, Doc."

Swineheart glanced back at the doorway, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "Ahh, there he is," He turned back to Snow as he pat the bed reassuringly, "Call me if you need anything, really."

Snow thanked him once more before Swineheart left, maneuvering past Bigby and showing himself out. They both listened to him leave before Bigby crossed his arms, now leaning his weight against the wall. She watched him curiously out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help but smile at the obvious nervous energy that he hid under his casual, apathetic guise.

"He sure is nicer to you than he is to me."

"Probably because he's used to stitching you up."

Bigby smiled and started to pull his carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He paused and seemed to remember where he was before consequently patting them back down.

"You can't tell me he's never had to work on you after a fight."

She smirked and sighed, "It's been a long time. Old New York days. Before I knew better."

"What does that say about you now? Getting your moxie back?"

They locked eyes again, but Snow glanced away quickly and spoke in a stern tone, "It says nothing about me. Things just haven't been this bad for some time."

Bigby didn't respond, but he stepped closer to the bed. He seemed contemplative and troubled now, and she could see his determination slip with his furrowed brow and tired eyes.

Snow sat forward, tilting her chin towards the sheriff in concern, "Is your shoulder okay? Are you okay?"

He reached up and patted his shoulder slightly before shrugging, "He took a look at me late last night. It's nothing I can't handle."

She snorted and ran her hand down her belly again, feeling guilty about the fuss made over her. She hated all of _this_; the co-workers in her apartment, the niceties, the worried faces. It was kindness that impeded on her sense of independence and it irked her to be in this bed clutching a knife wound.

In that moment of doubt, Bigby sat down suddenly on the bed next to her, causing her weight to shift towards him.

"Are you…doing okay?"

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned away from him slightly. Her memories were still coming together, but she remembered enough to regain her professional focus, "I'm _fine_, there's other things we have to talk abou—"

"I don't want you to write this off. That was scary shit back there. Don't act like nothing happened."

Snow cringed at his sticky-sweet tone, and she shook her head in annoyance, "_Don't_ talk to me like that. Don't ask me how I am and then tell me I'm lying."

"You _are_ lying."

Snow slapped her palms flat against her sheets, pulling herself up and further away from the increasingly intrusive sheriff, "I don't recall inviting you here. In fact, the last time you were here I remember asking you quite plainly to leave, because you totally lost it."

"The last time I was _here_—" Bigby's voice trailed off, and his mouth promptly shut.

"I know how badly you want me to be some sort of damsel in distress, for you to comfort me while I hide under my bed, but I'm not that person. I'm the person who will get it together and get the work _done _while you're still fretting over this."

Her voice was strong and blunt, and when it ended, the room felt empty. Bigby froze before his shoulders slumped downward. Snow felt immediate guilt, but her anger was still hot in her face. Resigning to his loss, the sheriff stood up and returned to his place across the room. She waited for him to respond in irritation like he did last night, but he seemed determined to let it end there. That, she appreciated.

Snow cleared her throat as the professional in her returned and the gears started to turn forward in her mind. She spoke surely, "We need to figure out next steps. We can't stop because of a momentary upset."

"An upset? Is that what last night was?"

She ignored Bigby, continuing stoically, "We need to start mounting a final offensive. It's almost over. They're desperate," Her murmuring continued quietly as she started to talk more to herself than the sheriff.

"Snow, we don't have to get caught up in it. But we need to at least talk about this. I still don't have any idea about what happened."

She glared at his interruption, but she bit her tongue before snapping at him. Swinging her legs over the bed, Snow put her weight on her arms as she let her bare feet touch the cold floor.

Bigby was already shaking his head when he sighed, "Come on, don't do this. You're not going to the office today."

Her back straightened and she winced as the bandage tightened around her waist. With a small pop, her neck cracked and she smiled before responding slyly, "If I expect you in the office every day, I'm sure as hell going to hold the same standards to myself."

Bigby put both of his hands in the air in surrender, but he took another step forward to stand in front of Snow's dangling feet. "Before you get going and head to the office and start making a master plan, I need you to just fill me in, just real fast."

Snow stared up at Bigby and his ponderous stance, and she reluctantly relaxed her arms and shifted her weight back down to the bed. Her mind filled with a mix of memories and emotions. She sat quietly as she shifted through and consolidated them, gathering herself into a nearly meditative state of contemplation. She could feel Bigby's exhausted eyes on her, but they were patient with her process. He had to have been used to it by now; Snow only ever spoke carefully.

"I _think _it was largely a retaliatory effort in response to what I did to Greenleaf's tree—"

"That seemed pretty small time, didn't it?"

"It wasn't that it was _vital_ to their operation or anything. I guess they just didn't appreciate the message. We've already figured out how controlling they are of the black market magic. They need more. They'll always need _more_ supplies when it comes to magic. They want a decent connection between the thirteenth floor and its resources. It's very simple," She stopped and gave a small laugh before continuing, "I guess that's reassuring. If they needed to torture _me_ for information about the thirteenth floor, I guess that means the entire business office isn't completely corrupt. Which is what I was sure of."

"I guess the witches get paid enough to be above simple bribery."

Snow snorted, "I'm not sure _anyone_ is paid enough for that."

"So…what'd you give them?"

Snow's smile faded and she glanced away from Bigby's wide eyes before she spoke with a tight, incredulous voice, "I didn't give them _anything_. This isn't my first time being strapped to a chair."

Bigby narrowed his gaze at Snow before tilting his head quizzically, "I know you gave them something, Mary let us off too easily."

"I fed them old leads, useless information. I'm sure they knew it was shit too. It wasn't _about _ information, Bigby. It was about catching us off guard and making us panic. Something's up. They're getting nervous, because we're close. But this means there's _no more_ mistakes. Right now, it's whoever blinks first. We don't have time to lose, Bigby."

He crossed his arms and leaned back on his feet, seemingly thoughtful. She watched him intently, hoping to gauge her sheriff's mood.

"How'd you get to be so good, Snow? Who taught you to stand interrogation like that?"

She smirked and sat up straight, "Nobody taught me. Who taught _you_ to be the incomparable detective? We're born public servants. Our talents serve the community and that's makes us the most loyal. Which is why we make up the only two honest people left in Fabletown. We can only trust each other now. But we're by far the most capable team."

His wide hands stuffed themselves into his pockets as he watched Snow amusedly. "That's a stirring speech. Have you been saving that for a while?"

Snow scoffed and reached up in the air, beckoning Bigby for help standing up, "Only since that night you told me about Crane."

His rough hand grasped Snow's and he helped pull her up straight. Snow winced momentarily but she quickly regained her composure before taking a deep, satisfied breath.

"Alright. It's time to get to work."

* * *

It was days later, and the few hours of sleep, endless cups of coffee, and anxious planning and waiting had resulted in an exhilarated Snow White. Despite her constant lip-biting and panicking, she felt a rush that she had seldom experienced before; a rush of power and excitement at the prospect of getting the job _done_. All this time, since the inception of Fabletown, she had been at the disposal of other people. Her originality and her hard work had constantly been funneled into recognition for the people around her. But now it was _hers. _

Interrupting her wallow in self-indulgence, Snow turned to the sheriff who stood next to her. Surprisingly, his voice was calm as he spoke to the small crowd that had gathered at the Witching Well to argue and blame each other during the trial of the Crooked Man. His descent into the well minutes ago had momentarily filled her with unease, but it had turned quickly into satisfaction. Not all Fables were meant to be a part of this community, and as the quiet conversations between the remaining citizens started to consider the _new _Fabletown, Snow felt reassured.

She stood back, letting the sheriff make some amends and listen to some final thoughts. Everyone seemed to have something to say to each other in light of the situation, and she knew it was needed. The room had been heated earlier, but…somehow, they had handled it well, and an air of geniality returned that Snow hadn't felt for quite some time.

Snow straightened when Beauty's sheepish frame came closer to her. She spoke quietly, "Quite a first week as Deputy Mayor, huh, Snow?"

Snow smirked as she crossed her arms, thinking indulgently of all the things she could say before politely settling on, "I just appreciate everyone's help and understanding along the way."

"I could never do it. I admire you for it," Beauty gave a small smile before turning back to Beast and joining in with the jovial conversation Bigby and him seemed to be having.

Snow relaxed her shoulders and flattened her jacket with her palms. She watched Bigby listen and talk confidently despite his weary eyes and she felt herself beam with pride. The bandages that peeked from his shirt and the small cuts along his cheek told a very different tale from the earnest sound of his voice as he spoke now. His growth had been admirable and his handle on the situation had not faltered when she needed him the most. He seemed to feel her eyes on him and looked up, catching her gaze. They shared the brief glance for a few moments before he smiled cheekily and looked back at Beast. Snow smiled and looked back to the well.

It wasn't long before the crowd dissipated, and Snow finally walked the stragglers back up to the lobby of The Woodlands. She waved lastly to a bittersweet Holly before turning back to the elevator. She meant to head back up to the business office and take advantage of the quiet for once, calling for the elevator and cracking her neck serenely.

"Snow! Hey!"

She turned lazily, catching the sheriff's eyes again as he bounded towards her, his darkened eyes somehow still energetic.

"Don't tell me you're heading up to the office."

She rolled her eyes, "There's work to be done, Sheriff. A lot of things have been ignored the past few weeks. Not that _you_ would know that."

He shook his head amusedly, "Come on, let's go get a drink or something. Don't you want to celebrate?"

"What? Celebrate a return to normalcy?"

"Celebrate your promotion, finally. I'm buying. Come on."

She laughed at his excitement, but shook her head despite of it, "Why don't you go celebrate your job well done? I've got an office to take care of."

"Snow…" His mouth opened, but he snapped it shut and seemed to bite his tongue, "…Never mind, it's fine. Don't work too hard, okay?" His gave a warm smile, the one that had been so oddly frequent lately, and stepped back from the elevator. His eyes were calling her name, but Snow stood her ground.

She grinned as the elevator door opened behind her. She stepped in and waved, "Good night, Sheriff. Be careful out there."

Bigby forced a smile and shoved his hands in his pockets before turning away as the doors closed. Snow took a deep breath and tried to shake away the fluttering in her stomach. _No distractions._

Moments later, Snow was unlocking the business office door. The immense room was quiet and empty. She stood behind her new desk and let her fingertips graze the surface before pulling the large leather chair back for her. Folders and paperwork littered it, and the bronze name plate was nearly falling off the edge due to the clutter. Snow centered it carefully and piled the paperwork neatly to her left side.

She settled down into the chair and placed her palms flat against the wood and pulled herself closer. With fountain pen in her hand, she pulled the top folder down from the stack next to her. It was time to walk the walk.

* * *

Weeks passed by, and Fabletown was slowly gaining a new rhythm. Snow refused to be a disappointment to the people who had put their faith in her, and she tried her hardest to reconnect with alienated citizens. It had already become apparent, however, that being beloved was a job reserved for figureheads, and not even the deputy mayor was shielded from heated disputes that somehow got dragged into her office every morning. No matter how uninvolved she was, there was always some finger-pointing towards her. There was no way to prepare for the line outside of her door every day, and as she waited for her new assistant to arrive, Snow was still picking up phone calls with one hand and signing off on expenditure requests with the other.

But being able to leave the Woodlands and receive _some_ warm smiles instead of cold glances, being able to close her apartment door and feel like work would _probably_ not be traveling back with her, being able to feel like a _respected _member of the community, was all exhilarating.

She pondered all this as she stood by her living room window a short while after getting home one night, watching summer rain stream down the pane. The streetlamps below her were just starting to turn on and glimmer in the evening dark. Gin in her hand, Snow swayed softly to the jazz record she had put on, and her eyes closed as a small grin spread across her face. Reaching up to her bun, she tugged at her hair tie and let her raven locks fall to her shoulders. Her free hand tousled them before she bent over and pulled off her navy heels haphazardly, tossing them to the side.

A loud, heavy knock sounded behind her, making her stand straight up in surprise. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Work could never be _that_ far away.

Resisting the urge to ignore it and continue her night, Snow pulled the door open forcefully. She hadn't been sure who to expect, but her eyes widened at the sight of Bigby. His tan trench coat had soaked shoulders, and his hair strung to his face. Before they could exchange greetings, Bigby reached forward and offered a thin folder towards Snow.

"Hey. I thought you might want to sign off on these before you headed off to the farm."

She looked at the folder before looking up at the sheriff amusedly, "Hello to you, too."

His eyes gave a small roll and he shook his head, "Hi. I'm sorry. I just wanted to get this to you before it was too late tonight."

She nodded, and with a single hand she beckoned him inside. His eyebrows rose in surprise before he followed her through the threshold.

"Why're you _wet_? Just come from outside?" Snow walked to her coffee table and grabbed a pen, placing it on her ear before cracking open the case file to skim over.

Bigby crumpled his hands in the pockets of his coat as he cautiously came closer, "Yeah…I've been running around all day. I just came in to get that for you before you left tomorrow morning."

Her eyes rose from the report curiously, "Anything I should know about?"

He laughed and shook his head, "No, it's the usual bullshit. Don't worry about it."

That reassured Snow to an extent, and she went back to going over his paperwork. Eventually she bent over and signed off on it. Closing the folder and handing it back to Bigby, Snow added, "Thanks for remembering that. All of that would've been overdue if we waited until next week. I'm already behind _enough_ on paperwork."

Bigby shrugged, but kept his kind expression, "Well, I try not to be that much of a burden on you."

Snow shook her head while laughing. They shared a brief moment of camaraderie before the room became quiet, with only the soft music playing to support them.

Bigby swallowed and leaned back on his feet nervously, "It's been a while. Are you doing okay?"

She grinned at his concern, placing her hands on her hips in thought, "I'm _fine_, just busy. Coordinating all these new programs, making amends…. I hardly have any alone time right now."

The sheriff frowned and motioned towards her door, "Ahh, I'm sorry. I should head back."

"_Bigby_, come on. You're fine."

He relaxed, but kept a skeptical gaze. They shared silence once more, and Snow nearly blushed at Bigby's determination to make the conversation awkward.

"Your hair's down."

_Oh my god_. "I don't keep it up all day, you know."

"It looks good."

It was Snow's turn to roll her eyes, and she laughed as she spoke, "I like it up. But thank you. Maybe I'll try it out at work one day."

Bigby took a few steps closer towards her window, and peered down to the street as she had earlier.

"This town. Some days I can't stand it. But there's something about it. Something in the air."

She came nearer, watching the traffic pass by on the street below, "It's home."

He gave a small laugh, "Is it now? I don't know," His eyes seemed far away, and after thinking for a while, he spoke quietly, "I guess it's as close as I'm going to get for a while."

Snow bit her lip, trying to talk herself out of her inclinations and the gin, before she gave up and reached out to grab Bigby's hand. Her thin fingers wrapped around his calloused palm and she squeezed it tightly. She could feel his surprised eyes on her, but she kept her gaze out the window.

They were quiet for a long time, before Bigby sighed and leaned nearer to the window, "What is this, Snow. You've been avoiding me for weeks. What's up now?"

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him guiltily. Her brow furrowed, and she nearly let herself deny it, but she stopped herself. She owed him more than that.

"What do you mean, 'what's up now'?"

He closed his eyes and let his forehead touch the pane, "I _mean_, why are you letting me in now. You always have a reason. What is it?"

Snow's stomach sank and her mouth moved, but no words came.

"I'm not attacking you, I'm just wondering," His voice was neutral and the yellow light in his eyes glimmered.

"I didn't…I don't know," Snow pulled her hand away and took a step back, "I'm sorry. I've been…unprofessional."

Bigby snorted and finally turned to look at her, still smirking, "Snow, who are you with right now? 'Unprofessional', really?"

His dismissive words did nothing to qualm Snow's red face. Her grip on herself was slipping in her introspection, and she felt faint panic. It must have shown on her expression, because Bigby's eyes softened with guilt.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on now. It's okay." Bigby turned to her abruptly, grabbing her hand once more. They were closer now, and Snow's instinct to pull away further was stopped by the kindness in his eyes.

"All I've ever wanted was for you to just talk to me. What's going on in there?"

Snow's face was full of desperation and before she could stop herself, her small voice answered, "I don't know, damn it," She considered it, before she finally admitted, "I'm afraid."

"…Of me?"

"_No_…well, I don't know. I'm afraid of _this_," She waved her hand briefly between them, "Look, I can't _allow_ this beyond what happens on _my terms_."

Bigby's face contorted in confusion, "It's _always_ been on your terms. That's why I'm asking, why now? I've hardly seen you in weeks."

"I _know_ that, Bigby, but that isn't fair to you. I know this isn't fair. But I need so much control to feel safe. I need so much and I…I can give so little." Her voice trailed off, and her lips pouted in shame. She sighed and her voice nearly cracked as she accepted the truth, "I've _needed_ your help so much lately, and you give it without hesitation. But I hate _needing_ anything from anyone."

Her heavy words hung between them, and Bigby considered his words carefully. His voice was quiet when he finally responded, "Snow, you don't have to keep yourself so bulletproof…I'd never hurt you."

She immediately seethed and stepped back from him, "Don't you _dare _say that, don't ever say that again."

Bigby's face broke into puzzlement and regret, and she could see his struggle for words, "I'm…I'm sorry. Look, Snow…" His hand reached hesitantly for her cheek, and she watched him suspiciously before she obliged. They stared into each other, and Bigby spoke carefully, "You don't owe me anything for being there for you. We're _friends_," He paused and lowered his voice as he leaned closer, "You and me, sometimes we're just not attuned to each other. Things get complicated and hard but…where it counts, we're in sync, together. I don't know what that means, but it's okay to be complicated. It's okay to be afraid. It's okay to want control."

He hesitated for a moment, but he went ahead and placed his hand on her jacket's waist. She stiffened but soon relaxed, and Bigby held her palm up to their sides. It wasn't until he started swaying back and forth, ever so slightly, that she realized he was attempting to dance with her.

"What?"

Snow looked up innocently, "What?"

"Why are you smiling like that?"

She looked down and away, "It's _nothing_, it's nothing."

"Look, I don't know that much, okay? But we can go slow. This is nice, isn't it?"

Snow grinned, and she got closer to the sheriff. His warmth was inviting, and with her wild hair and bare feet, Snow finally rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her firmly on the top of her head.

"We live a long time. It's okay to take a while to figure things out."

She considered his words before her voice spoke faintly, "I didn't mean to make this so complicated. I didn't mean to bring you into all of the uncertainty in my life."

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to her ear, "I don't mind it as long as I'm _in _your life."

They swayed for a very long time in the dim light, listening to piano and the murmur of the other lives in the Woodlands. There was so much noise around them, so many disruptions and so much history to overcome. It was nearly overwhelming, but Snow buried her face in his broad chest, like she had for the first time weeks ago, and escaped from the commotion.

Eventually, there came a time where the sheriff gave her a final, quick peck on her forehead before he pulled away from her slowly.

Snow crossed her arms and watched as he quickly grabbed his folder from her coffee table. Walking to the door, he turned to her and gave a small wave, "I'll hold down the fort for you until you get back, alright?"

She gave a small smile and waved back, "Thank you, Bigby."

"Be careful."

Snow nodded and ran a hand through her messy hair, "You know I always am."

He grasped the doorknob and turned back, giving Snow a teasing wink before he pulled the heavy door open and left her apartment.

Fin.


End file.
